The Reason
by Miss Pookamonga
Summary: Songfic. She was his reason for everything, and then she was gone, just like that. He never got a chance to say sorry, and now it's too late. Minor spoilers from "Search and Rescue" through "Broken Ties".


_Dear Readers,_

_I was immensely disappointed in Rodney's lack of reaction to Sam's leaving Atlantis. Even if you're not a shipper, you have to admit that he does have some sort of feelings for her, whatever they may be, and that the complete absence of any personal reaction to her departure makes no sense whatsoever. So, I decided to write this fic to fill in the gaps. It takes place from before "The Seed" all the way to after "Broken Ties". I used Hoobastank's song, "The Reason", as a basis for the plot. I hope you enjoy!_

_Best regards from a bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

* * *

_**The Reason**_

"What the _hell _do you mean, 'she's not coming back'?!"

John Sheppard sighed heavily for what seemed the millionth time that day. He hadn't believed it either, when he had first heard, and he'd taken it pretty hard. But he knew that was nothing compared to how Rodney was reacting. Or how he was going to react in a minute.

"She's...not coming back. The IOA's removed her, McKay." He said the last part more quietly, staring at his friend with eyes laden with all the possible sadness he had within him.

Rodney's mouth dropped open and he just gaped in shock at John for a few seconds before he could get anything out of his mouth. "What?!" he shot. "_Removed_?! Why?!"

"I don't know," John sighed, waving a hand hopelessly in the air. "You know how they are."

"What the hell did she do wrong?!" shrieked Rodney angrily, his voice rising dangerously and his face tightening in indignation.

"Absolutely nothing! But the IOA—"

"_Damn_ the IOA!"

John jumped, startled at Rodney's sudden outburst and cast him a surprised look. He'd been expecting McKay to take the news very hard, but he hadn't expected the scientist to appear this hurt. He was staring intently out at the gate room, his fists and teeth clenched so tightly that his face and knuckles were a deathly white. And were those...tears? Was that why he was looking away? Dammit, this wasn't good at all.

"McKay—"

"No!" Rodney suddenly shouted, whirling around furiously, catching John off-guard again. "This is _not _going to happen; something has to be done about it!"

John gulped. "It's already happened, Rodney. There's nothing we _can _do."

"Don't—don't—_say _that!" Rodney nearly screamed, jabbing his finger forcefully in John's face.

Yes, those were tears all right.

In all his four years on Atlantis, John Sheppard had never once seen Rodney McKay cry. Not even when Elizabeth and Carson had died and when Ford had disappeared. But now, he was on the verge of crying, as if this was the last straw and all that emotion that he'd kept bottled up for so long was going to explode in a mere second.

John didn't know what to say, or what to do. Rodney sure as hell wasn't going to let him see him cry, no matter how much the colonel could attempt to console him.

"I can't believe this," Rodney suddenly muttered in a much quieter, much calmer voice, as he hung his head and stared pointedly at his shoes.

"Neither can I," John offered empathetically, but Rodney refused to look at him.

"I've...got to go take care of some things in the, uh, lab," the scientist quickly jabbered after a short silence, and before John could stop him, he had rushed swiftly out of the room.

"McKay!" John called, but it was too late.

_**

* * *

**_

I'm not a perfect person  
There's many things I wish I didn't do  
But I continue learning  
I never meant to do those things to you  
And so I have to say before I go  
That I just want you to know...

* * *

He was drowning himself in his work.

As he always did in this type of situation.

It was so much easier to puzzle his mind with numerous formulas and equations, programs and complicated physics, than to allow himself to ponder hopelessly over problems that couldn't be solved. What was the point of giving in to emotion when all it did was spin you around in a circle and drop you off at the place you started from, with you feeling no better for it? It was easier if you traveled in a straight line, from start to finish, moving from a problem to a solution that always existed. Science always had answers. Emotions...didn't.

The only catch now was, every time he tried to work on yet another problem, he was constantly reminded of _her_.

Elizabeth hadn't been a physicist. Neither had Ford or Carson. And Carson didn't really count anymore since he was well, sort of...alive again. But _she _had been a physicist, and doing physics inevitably led to thoughts of her.

It had been so much simpler to forget before.

He found his thoughts wandering to the memory of the first time he'd met her. God, he'd been rude. More than rude, really. The man she'd first met was almost a foreign entity to him now. And, well, that was all due to her. For some reason, the moment he'd met her, he had felt something about her that was different from all the other scientists he'd ever worked with (and it hadn't just been that she was exceptionally beautiful). She had been the first person since Jeannie that he could remember who had been able to put him in his place, shoot down his pride, and make him face the arrogant little monster he really was. No one else outside of his sister and that lovely April Bingham from high school had been able to do that to him. And for some reason, she'd done it better than anyone else ever had. She had changed him. And for that, he was forever in her debt.

Only...now he was without her again.

When she had first come to Atlantis, he'd felt a rising hope that for the first time, he'd be able to look forward to spending more years working alongside her without interruption, and that maybe he would finally have the chance to make up for everything she'd done for him. But now that hope had been shattered, and here he was again, stuck in his lab, alone and separated from the only woman he'd ever truly loved.

Loved? Wait a minute.

Did he really _love _her? Or was he still floating endlessly through dream-fantasies of being with her, merely idolizing her and not really carrying any flicker of affection for her?

No. He was not going to think about this now. It was too much, too painful. Back to the numbers.

But the numbers _were_ her. He had met her because of numbers and figures and the very thing he was trying to immerse himself in at the moment. "Impossible" was not a part of his vocabulary, but right now it was becoming impossible to forget her for even just a split second.

"Rodney?"

Rodney didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He continued staring at his laptop screen, futilely searching for answers to questions that didn't have them.

"I heard..." the voice continued somewhat cautiously.

"Look, Radek, I don't want to talk about it now, okay?" sighed Rodney dejectedly. He felt slightly guilty for sounding too harsh, but he really didn't want to talk or think about it. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, erasing all the pain and loss he'd experienced throughout his whole lifetime. Up until now, he'd been balancing all that delicately on a tightrope, but now the tightrope was about to break.

"I'm sorry, Rodney. I just...if...if you need anything," the Czech scientist finished lamely.

Rodney slowly turned around to look Radek in the eye. "Thanks," he said quietly, and he realized that this was one of the few times he had really ever thanked the man.

Even now, she was changing him, without even being there.

_**

* * *

**_

I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you

* * *

"Dr. McKay."

Rodney sighed almost audibly and turned to face the man who had unexpectedly replaced her only weeks ago. What could he possibly want now?

"Yes, Mr. Woolsey?" he forced out of his mouth, although the words were dripping with all the vehemence he could possibly muster.

"May I have a word with you in my office?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney caught Radek turning to stare up at the conversation, his brow furrowed in interest. Rodney sighed heavily and desperately hoped that this wasn't going to take long.

"Oh—of course," he finally replied, automatically feigning politeness. He was, as much as he hated to admit it, beginning to get used to doing that every time he was around Woolsey.

"Good. Follow me."

_As if I'm supposed to do anything else_, Rodney thought bitterly. Ever since he had learned that not only had Sam been removed from command but also that Richard Woolsey, of all people, had been appointed to replace her, he had been nothing but deathly sour towards everyone and everything in his sight. Before, he had been simply hopelessly depressed, but now he was hopelessly furious. _Woolsey_? The very man who had not only aided the near-removal of Elizabeth from her position but had also proceeded to interfere with Sam's decision-making, and who had represented the hellish conglomerate of dictators who had been relentlessly attempting to dismantle everyone's good efforts for the last few years? If there was one thing Rodney McKay truly hated, it was being forced to work for someone he despised and whom he disagreed with on almost every angle. And, to add to that, someone who had robbed him of something so precious that he would never be able to replace...but he was still blocking _that_ out of his mind with a steel wall.

The minute Rodney stepped into the office, a strangely...clean...scent tickled his nose, and he immediately took personal offense at the smell. It smelled _too _clean. Sterile, almost. As if someone had been trying to wash away all memory of the room's previous occupants. He looked up, and to his dismay, the sight he saw confirmed his suspicions.

The old desk was gone. The one that both Elizabeth and Sam had used. It had now been replaced with yet another mahogany fixture, with a similar design to that of the new briefing room table. The shelves that had housed Elizabeth's and Sam's personal items were missing too, and the walls were now left eerily bare. The new commander had no photos or sentimental trinkets adorning the room save for a single picture frame upon the slick wooden finish of the desk. Rodney couldn't imagine for the life of him whose face Richard Woolsey would want to frame. He was so distant it seemed impossible for him to even have a family of his own.

As Rodney surveyed the office quickly while Woolsey stepped toward the pristinely glazed desktop, he suddenly felt small...and terribly alone. As if he were that young, frightened seven-year-old boy who still wet the bed because he had nightmares about being swallowed whole by a monstrous whale. He felt as if he was facing the belly of the beast, about to be devoured by something foreign and strange and altogether unwelcome...but altogether infinitely more powerful than he could ever be.

He felt the monster's jaws lock tightly around his tiny self as Woolsey took a seat in the new leather armchair he had brought along with him to accompany the disgustingly glossy wooden desk. Rodney wanted to vomit when he saw Woolsey sitting there looking like a self-satisfied monarch. How _dare_ he. Rodney balled his hands into fists at his sides and gritted his teeth, trying to restrain himself from lashing out and punching the man. For the past few weeks, there had been several moments when the scientist had come quite close to doing just that out of fury, but luckily, someone else had been there with him to keep him in check. Now it was just he and Mr. Woolsey in an isolated room, with no one to restrain Rodney if he suddenly snapped.

"Take a seat, doctor," Woolsey offered suddenly, breaking the stifling silence and causing Rodney to jump just a bit. It took him a few seconds to register Woolsey's words, but he finally nodded and sunk down into the seat the man was indicating with his hand.

"Well, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Rodney asked lightly.

Woolsey took a deep breath and leaned forward, folding his hands atop the desk ostentatiously. By the grave expression on Woolsey's face, Rodney suddenly could tell that this meeting wasn't going to go well. At least, not by his standards it wasn't.

"Well, Dr. McKay, I have been going over reports from some of your fellow colleagues in the lab, and I have spoken with some of them over the past few weeks. Apparently they have been noticing some...irregularities in your performance."

Rodney tightened his fists instinctively, trying as hard as possible to cool the boiling anger inside of him to a light simmer. "Oh?" he finally managed, lifting his chin. "Like what?"

"Well, for instance, when I spoke to Dr. Zelenka a few weeks ago about some research you two were collaborating on, he informed me that everything had been going well except for that fact that you seemed a bit...distracted. Not on-task. I assumed that this was probably an isolated incident, but as the weeks have progressed, I have received messages from several concerned scientists claiming that you have often shown up late for duty, misplaced certain files, and have become more frustrated in the lab than is usual for you."

Rodney clamped his mouth shut.

"What's more, I do believe there have been a few instances of you abandoning your work for hours on end and disappearing from the lab without informing anyone of why you were leaving or where you were going."

Rodney gripped the leather arms of his seat, digging his nails into the material. Was it just him, or did Woolsey sound like he was thoroughly enjoying this?

Woolsey merely continued in that horribly droning voice of his. "Now, doctor, I know you have been nothing but a diligent worker and a responsible member of this expedition ever since you arrived here on Atlantis. So I must admit I am quite shocked at this sudden change of behavior. Rather than immediately reprimand you for it, I feel obliged to ask you—is there anything wrong that I should be worried about that is responsible for your recent conduct?"

Rodney inhaled sharply, his emotions strangling him like the deadly tendrils of the wraith organism that had taken over Jennifer's body only weeks before. Of course the man would ask if _he _should be worried about it. He only thought of himself, didn't he? Just like the rest of them. Rodney gulped lividly, knowing he should say something, but fearing that whatever would come out of his mouth might get him thrown out of the city. If only—

Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck him.

Was _this _how _she_ had felt the first time she had worked with him?

Oh, god. He really _had_ been a beast to her, hadn't he?

It had never really occurred to him before, just exactly how she might have felt the moment he had showed up at the SGC, blowing off everyone and everything before him and boasting continuously about his superior intelligence. As the years had passed, he obviously realized that he had been nothing but a total jerk to her during that first encounter, but he had never taken into full account just how horribly he had actually acted. True, Woolsey's behavior was nowhere near as overtly pretentious as his had been, but it was definitely present despite all its subtleties, and Rodney felt suddenly sick at the thought that he had once been as obscenely conceited as his new commander and his despicable "friends" at the IOA.

It was true, what they said about experience being the best teacher.

As if his grief wasn't enough, now Rodney truly hated himself more than ever before. _This _was how it had felt to sit and listen to someone who was completely immersed in himself. Jeannie had put up with it for years. But she was his sister. Sisters could get used to that kind of thing—but to inflict that kind of arrogance on a stranger as sincere and as hard-working as Sam Carter was unforgivable. Every time Woolsey assessed his work, he felt as if he was falling short of some unattainable perfection that the man wanted out of him, and he felt, just as he did now, as if he was an incredibly useless delinquent. Was that how Sam had felt when he had constantly beaten her down for her "sub-par" performance? Sure, she had never dared to show it, but he couldn't help but believe that some part of her had felt just as hurt and as worthless as he did whenever Woolsey dared to criticize him—which was quite often.

"Dr. McKay?"

Rodney jumped again at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts, and he blinked twice in order to regain his composure. "I'm sorry?"

"I was asking if there is anything going on that has been causing your lack of attention at work." Woolsey's expression remained as seriously concerned as before, but there was that slight lilt in his voice that Rodney recognized was meant to sound undeniably condescending.

"I..." What was he supposed to say? "It's...personal..._sir_." He added the last bit with an air of sarcasm.

Woolsey straightened up in his chair, as if he had detected Rodney's sarcasm and was trying to re-emphasize his superiority. "I understand, doctor," the new commander replied more stiffly, "but since whatever issue this is happens to be affecting your work, I, as your commander, have a right to know what's going on."

Rodney bit back a fresh wave of guilt. Had he really sounded that selfish before he had...changed?

"Mr. Woolsey...I understand your position...but...I would rather keep the issue private, if you don't mind. It's a bit..." Now what? "...difficult." He nearly choked on the last word, and not by any purposeful means.

Woolsey nodded, but the look in his eyes betrayed his displeasure. "I see. Well, although I would rather you tell me about this business of yours, I will, for the time being, allow you to return to your work. But under one condition."

Rodney looked up expectantly.

"You must promise me that you will remain focused, and that you will no longer continue to neglect your work."

Rodney felt as if he was being scolded by his mother. Served him right, for all the times he had belittled _her_.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"And...I would like you to seek some sort of...professional help, if the issue is as serious as it seems."

It was one thing to suggest getting help. It was another thing to mandate it. Now Rodney truly felt like the poor child being forced to sit in the corner with a hat reading "dunce" on it. He hated feeling so low. What force had given him the right to treat everyone like that before? True, he still insulted everyone and everything under the sun, especially Radek, but it was different now. Before, he had meant it. Now...well, even when he snapped, people knew that he really cared, deep down inside of him.

"Yes, sir," he answered numbly.

"Good. Now, I should let you get back to your work."

Rodney stood up, and without another word, he swiftly exited the office that had now become a foreboding cell of imprisonment.

_**

* * *

**_

I'm sorry that I hurt you  
It's something I must live with every day  
And all the pain I put you through  
I wish that I could take it all away  
And be the one who catches all your tears  
That's why I need you to hear

**_I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you_**

_**and the reason is you**_

_**and the reason is you**_

_**and the reason is you...**_

* * *

He would never be able to figure out how she had made such a significant impact on him.

Maybe it was because he saw in her everything he wasn't, everything he wanted to be...and being with her actually made him believe that achieving all that was actually possible. She had challenged him without even meaning to, and it was because of that challenge that he had been able to break through his security barriers and come to accept his teammates as family. Years ago, that wouldn't even have been a possibility...but now...it was just natural to him. He was like the brother everyone hated and loved at the same time, who was constantly annoying yet somehow tolerable and surprisingly easy to become attached to.

He wished he could've thanked her properly while she had been on Atlantis, but he had never really known how. From what little he did know, he knew that actions most often spoke louder than words, and he had tried his best to show her rather than tell her how much he'd changed and how much he owed her for it through his work and his newfound obedience. And he'd even been able to muster enough courage to tell her what a superb job he'd thought she'd done during her short term as leader of the expedition. But somehow, none of it seemed like enough.

"Hey."

A soft, oddly familiar voice suddenly separated him from his thoughts, and he sat up in bed to see who it was. The sight that met him shocked him so violently, for a moment, he felt as if he had been displaced from his own body.

"_Sam_?"

The shadowed figure walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. Somehow, despite the darkness, she still glowed like a fragment of a star shot down from the heavens. That was how he always saw her.

"You're..."

"Not real. I know."

He looked away, feeling unwanted tears stinging his eyes. "So I'm just talking to myself again?"

When she didn't answer, he chanced a quick glance at her and found himself captivated, as usual, by her stunningly immaculate beauty.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly whispered, although in his heart he knew that she really wasn't there.

She turned to look him in the eye. He could never think straight when her sky-blue eyes locked with his. "I know," she replied seriously. "You don't have to feel so guilty, you know."

He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Really. After everything I said to you."

"That was a long time ago."

"So? What does it matter? I was still nothing but a sorry son of a bitch to you."

Her lips curled into a slight grin. "You were. But you've changed. That about makes up for it."

He sighed heavily. "No, it doesn't. I made you feel like a piece of dirt. Like...Woolsey makes me feel." He waved his hands helplessly in the air. "Like how my dad used to make me feel. Stupid me should've realized how much I was acting like him when I first met you," he finished dejectedly.

Her face melted in sympathy. "Sometimes children don't realize that they act like their parents did until it's too late," she added simply.

"Huh. Well, that certainly applies to me."

"But you fixed it."

"I wouldn't have if I hadn't met you." Pause. "Besides, I promised myself that I'd never be like him when I grew up, and now look at me." He hung his head.

Silence.

Suddenly, he felt something warm upon his hand, and he glanced downward to see her hand lying across his.

"That's not possible."

She smiled again. "Talking to me now isn't supposed to be possible, either."

Another silence. He stared intently at her hand, reveling in its warmth.

"I've never really thanked you, you know."

She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"For...helping me not be so much of a jerk."

She suddenly giggled, and his stomach did about a dozen back-flips. "It wasn't all me."

"Yes, it was. Don't you remember our conversation in the SGC infirmary?" he gazed at her expectantly, hoping she would recall the event as much as he did.

Her smile widened substantially. "Yes. I've never forgotten it."

"I still think you're an artist. And not just with science. With...people too. Like...me."

She was beaming now, and he loved seeing the obvious pleasure and embarrassment on her face.

"Thank you," she barely whispered. He could feel her breath brushing against his skin, and he shivered.

"Don't," he replied sternly. "You've done enough already."

He suddenly found that his free hand had moved to cup her cheek. He let his thumb stroke the soft skin there while he watched in wonder at how her eyelids fluttered like that in response to his touch. He moved his hand to thread his fingers through her hair and brush the loose strands back behind her ear. He wished somehow that he could put into words how much respect he really had for her, how his feelings could have in fact gone beyond just that, how he thought of her as one of his greatest friends, how he might actually _love _her after all she'd done for him. But he couldn't—he didn't know how. He could only continue to stroke her hair tenderly as he had always wished to do, and lean his forehead against hers so that their noses were nearly touching.

He wanted to kiss her so badly. To somehow communicate to her how he had been feeling for so long but had never dared to admit to himself or to anyone else.

He leaned forward, his breath intermingling with his. Their lips were nearly about to touch, when something else warm pressed against his mouth suddenly.

He looked down, and saw her finger perched against his lips, trembling. He then glanced back up at her eyes, and saw that they were glassy and swollen with tears. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but she silenced him by shaking her head sadly.

"I'm not real," she whispered.

Rodney's eyes suddenly shot open to find himself lying back in bed, staring at an empty ceiling.

_**

* * *

**_

I'm not a perfect person  
I never meant to do those things to you  
And so I have to say before I go  
That I just want you to know

**_I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you_**

* * *

He stood outside the door, waiting.

The last time he'd been called to a personal meeting with Woolsey, it had been...less than pleasant. Now, he'd been called again, and this time the meeting was to be after hours, in Woolsey's own quarters. Rodney's stomach plummeted as he considered all the possible things he could've done to set off the man again in only a matter of weeks.

Just as he was contemplating the worst-case scenario for the meeting at hand—which involved a quiet but upsetting layoff and a disgraceful return to Earth—the door slid open, revealing Mr. Woolsey standing there, dressed pristinely in a crisp suit and tie.

"Dr. McKay," Woolsey said, neither welcomingly nor menacingly. "Come in."

Rodney nodded and briskly stepped through the doorway in order not to betray the fact that his knees were trembling violently. He gulped and bounced up and down upon the balls of his feet to relieve the mounting anxiety as the door slid closed and Woolsey walked toward a small bar at the far end of the room. Rodney had to admit, he was a bit surprised by the cozy appearance of his new boss' quarters—it seemed a bit too hospitable and warm to belong to a man who was so often so cold and aloof from everyone else. Unlike in the prison-like aura of Woolsey's nearly-bare office, Rodney felt somewhat nestled comfortably among the wooden bookshelves, soft carpet, and leather chairs and couch of the room. He felt as if he was once again tucked away in his grandfather's old library, where he had often hidden to find solace as a young boy. The barely audible hum of Pachelbel's _Canon _in the background brought back some of the few pleasant memories of his childhood and provided a small bit of peace to ease Rodney's grief and unease.

"Would you care for a drink, doctor?" Woolsey suddenly asked, appearing in front of Rodney again, this time holding out a glass of red wine.

Rodney was taken aback by the sudden kind offer, and for a few seconds, he fumbled around in his mind for something coherent to say. "I...uh...of course. Thank you," he finally uttered, taking the glass gently from Woolsey's outstretched hand.

"My pleasure. Take a seat." Woolsey stepped aside and indicated a green leather couch to his left.

Rodney nodded in a daze and moved to sit upon the couch (which felt much comfier than it looked) as Woolsey sank down into an armchair opposite the mahogany coffee table separating them. The music continued to drift along, carrying Rodney's confused thoughts along with it. Why was Woolsey all of a sudden being so...nice?

"Now, I know you're probably wondering why I called you here, and especially at this hour," Woolsey began, furrowing his brow as he always did when making a serious point.

_That's certainly an understatement_, Rodney thought as he carefully placed his wineglass upon the table, just in case he were to grow infuriated later and possibly break the priceless piece of dinnerware.

Woolsey took a deep breath as the music swelled slightly. "Well...to start off...I wanted to...apologize...for the way I acted during our last meeting."

Rodney suddenly choked on air and coughed loudly in shock. Had Woolsey just..._apologized_?

"After turning the matter over in my mind, and after observing you once again in the lab, I came to realize that I had been a bit...harsh towards you. I...had no right, and I am sorry."

Rodney grabbed the glass and took a healthy swig of wine. "Umm...uhh...thank you...?" he stuttered after swallowing.

"No need to thank me, doctor," Woolsey answered diplomatically, turning to set his own glass down upon another small table next to his chair.

A small silence settled upon the conversation, broken only by the dancing notes of Pachelbel's _Canon_ floating magically through the night air. For a moment, Rodney could vaguely remember the times he had played that piece for Jeannie when his father had been away. His father had never really appreciated Rodney's attempt to impress him by learning to play the piano, but Jeannie had always been fascinated by it and would often come sit on the floor by the old wooden piano to listen to Rodney play her whatever tune he had fancied to play. Absent-mindedly, he wondered if one day he might be able to pick up playing again...and maybe one day be able to play a tune for the new woman who had captured his heart. But perhaps that too was now just another impossible dream.

"You see...I know what you're going through."

Rodney's head snapped upward to stare rigidly into Woolsey's eyes, a raw spot on his heart having suddenly been exposed. His jaw instinctively tightened.

Woolsey immediately recognized the abrupt change in Rodney's expression and sighed. "I was a fool not to realize what was bothering you before."

Rodney's cheeks grew hot and he turned away to gaze intently at the floor.

"I have, believe it or not, been through a similar experience, and...well...I should have recognized the signs. But I suppose I was too caught up in trying to be disciplinary and diplomatic to allow my personal life to get in the way."

Rodney let out a small huff. "The IOA will do that to you," he muttered before he had a chance to think over his words.

Luckily, Woolsey only responded with the same sentiment. "I know," he replied almost sadly. "But...to return to the matter, I...how do I say this? I..." he trailed off, and instead stood up and walked over to a small bookshelf and retrieved a picture frame from atop it. He crossed over to where the couch was and handed the photo to Rodney, who was now looking up again in interest.

"This is—was—my wife, Katharine."

Rodney stared.

It was hard to believe that a man like Woolsey could have once been married to this beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who so elegantly resembled a queen. She looked like an angel, an angel that reminded him very much of his own. For the first time in a long time, something began to stir within Rodney as he grew even more absorbed in the picture. Woolsey must have really loved her...and still did...if he still kept a picture of her in his room.

"We had...a falling out, of sorts. It got very complicated, and eventually, it was too much for her. So we got a divorce." Rodney glanced up sympathetically. "But, it was for the best..." The last part was said as an afterthought, with a heavy amount of hesitation, as if Woolsey was still trying to convince himself of the fact.

"I'm sorry," Rodney finally managed to croak after several more seconds of silence.

Woolsey sighed again, and Rodney suddenly realized that he really was beginning to feel terribly sorry for the man.

"She was my reason for everything. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her," Woolsey continued sadly, staring absently out the window. "And that dog. God, I loved that dog."

So, the Yorkie in the picture had been his, too. Rodney was now starting to feel guilty.

"She got it?"

"Yes," Woolsey answered flatly.

"I...have a cat...back home..." Rodney suddenly blurted out, at a loss to say anything else.

Woolsey looked back at him, his brow furrowed once again, but this time in curiosity. "Really?"

A bit unnerved, but intrigued by Woolsey's interest, Rodney nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "He's...uh...a pretty smart cat. But...I, um...never really see him anymore."

Woolsey directed his gaze straight at Rodney's own eyes. "It's difficult...when you leave someone behind that you...love."

Rodney gulped again, but this time it wasn't out of fear.

"For the record...I wasn't the one who made the decision to remove her."

Rodney resumed staring pointedly at the floor.

"I voted for her to stay. But, unfortunately, democracy sometimes wins over what is the best decision."

Rodney looked up in surprise at Woolsey's last words. "You..." but he couldn't say anything more.

"I honestly believe that she was doing a superb job of running the expedition. But it's hard to convince your colleagues of that when they are so set upon one decision."

He crossed back over to the bookshelf and replaced the photo in its spot as the music continued to float upon the breeze wafting in through the open window.

"They weren't fair to her, and neither were they fair to you or to anyone else on this base." Pause. "Which is why I've decided to grant you a month's leave."

Rodney nearly fell off the couch in shock. A _month_? Was he imagining things?

"But...isn't that...bending—"

"The rules, yes. But considering the fact that I've had to bend them already numerous times in the course of a few weeks, I think I can manage to squeeze one more infraction in without attracting much notice." Woolsey remained deathly serious, but Rodney could sense that the man was beaming inside as much as he was at the moment.

"I...uh..." he coughed, "thank you." _Cough._ "Sir."

For what seemed the first time in his life, Woolsey's mouth curled into a small smile. "Consider it as a chance to get to visit your..._cat_."

Rodney stood up and allowed his inner joy to finally spread to his face. "I will," he said jubilantly. "Thank you."

Woolsey smiled yet again. "I'm glad to help. I'd better let you get some rest for tomorrow now."

"Right..." Rodney wandered toward the door, completely unaware of where he was going. "Rest. Thank you. Again."

"You're welcome," Woolsey answered as the door slid open and Rodney began to walk out. "Oh! And Rodney..."

Rodney turned around.

"If you ever need anything."

Rodney nodded, feeling fully content for the first time in weeks. "Thanks," he said yet again before the door finally slid closed.

Rodney turned back towards the hallway and began bouncing joyfully away toward his quarters. Today hadn't been such a bad day, now that he thought about it.

Then, suddenly, another thought occurred to him.

Maybe he wasn't the only one she had been able to change.

_**

* * *

**_

I've found a reason to show  
A side of me you didn't know  
A reason for all that I do  
And the reason is you

* * *

**FIN **


End file.
